With friends like these
by Curondhil
Summary: Delvin's love life needs a little help. But alas, not all is lost when friends like Brynjolf are there to save the day! Rated T for mild sexual implications and language.
1. Prologue

_Just a little fun :) Read and review!_

_Inspired by a prompt on the Skyrim Kink Meme  
_

* * *

"You did not!"

The Ragged Flagon grew silent as a loud voice boomed through the hall. All conversations suddenly stopped and heads turned towards the man careless enough to draw all the attention to himself. Brynjolf frowned and looked at the Nord sitting opposite of him.

"Not so loud, Thrynn. Go and ask him yourself if you dont believe me."

Mischief glinted in his emerald eyes as the other patrons of the shady little tavern turned back to minding their own business.

The brunette Nord chuckled and returned the sardonic smirk of his superior.

"This will never work, you know that."

A quirked eyebrow indicated the redhead's amusement. "Oh? What makes you sure of that I wonder?"

The former bandit gave a loud, deep, hearty laugh. "Come on, Bryn. The Ladies love you, that might be so, but a few pickup lines don't cut the cake. You don't really believe a few words of shady advice will help old Delvin get laid?"

The older thief crossed his arms on the table, leaning closer to his colleague.

"Don't underestimate the old man. However, if you are so sure, how about a little bet?"

The other man's interest was piqued instantly. "What do you have in mind?"


	2. Chapter 1

The old thief was shuffling uncomfortably on his barstool. The Bee and Barb was much warmer today than usual, his guild leathers were itching uncomfortably, and his heart beat too fast for his own good,

All of these impressions indicated something to Delvin Mallory that he refused to accept. Something that had not happened to him in decades.

Delvin Mallory, Master thief, senior member of the Thieves Guild, former member of the Dark Brotherhood, was nervous.

He took another sip from his tankard, praying for the mead to help him calm his nerves. He was here on a mission. He needed to get laid.

His target was sitting on a table behind him, all alone for once. All Delvin needed to do now was grow a pair of balls and walk over to her.

He sighed. Brynjolf made it all sound so damn easy!

Haelga was known to be easy. She really shouldn't be much of a challenge, but Delvin still felt his palms grow cold with sweat. He tried to remember the past, a time when he was young and handsome, and the women were waiting in line to get some of his attention – but sadly that past was never his. He'd never had much luck with the opposite sex.

With all the stealth he could muster, he pulled a few pieces of paper from one of his pockets. The notes that held the results of his latest research. The advice his good friend and colleague had given him.

The Breton sighed once again, his eyes shuffling over the scribbled notes. He could do this! He had to!

With a not-so-graceful movement he stood up on wobbly legs and forced himself to keep his chin up. Confidence, it was all about confidence. Easy for Brynjolf to say, the man was a con-man for Ysmir's sake!

A few steps later Delvin found himself standing beside Haelga, who had just finished her dinner. He took a deep breath, made sure he held himself straight and tried desperately to keep his voice steady as he finally found the courage to speak up.

"Is that seat taken?"

Haelga looked up at the thief, then at the obviously vacant chair. And back at the thief.

_Smart move, Mallory_ he inwardly scolded himself.

Her eyes narrowed as she appraised his attire. It only dawned on him that his Guild had had some not-so-pleasant business with the woman he decided to woo, and maybe a change of clothes would have been appropriate. Ah well, too late for that now.

Obviously thinking he was here about business, she just nodded at the chair in defeat.

The thief took his sweet time getting comfortable, all the time knowing Haelga's eyes were resting on him, expecting him to do or say something.

He swallowed and tried to remember what Brynjolf had told him. He had her attention, so what was next?

Sadly he couldn't remember for the life of him, so he'd have to improvise.

"Nice evening, isn't it?"


	3. Chapter 2

_I know Bryn is totally OOC here, but I just had too much fun writing this to care. Hope you enjoy it anyways!_

* * *

"Not in a million years!"

Her voice echoed through the cistern. Brynjolf took a quick glance around to make sure nobody actually heard what he was discussing with their new guild master, and then turned back towards her with his most charming smile.

"But lass, it's for the sake of the Guild!"

"Don't you 'lass' me! I'm not going to sleep with Delvin only so you can win that stupid bet!"

Another glance around the cistern proved that nobody was close enough to make out what exactly they were talking about, so he was safe for now.

"There really is no reason to shout. You are the guild master now, and our well-being is in your best interest, right? And Delvin is not well. I would help him myself if I could, but you see..." His hands indicated his lack of cleavage „I'm not cut out for this job."

The middle-aged Breton was trying to kill him with her eyes. He knew that look, and he also knew the best way to react was – despite his urge to run away screaming like a little child – to just smile his puppy-smile and hope her motherly instincts would kick in. If she had such a thing. Which he doubted.

"Brynjolf, are you stupid?"

He sure felt like it, the way she asked him. "Uhmmm..."

"Oh shut up, Bryn. Get him a whore or something. Surely you have whores in Skyrim?"

The redhead shook his head. "No whores, strictly illegal."

The woman raised a delicate eyebrow. "Like that ever stopped you guys before."

Her second in command just shrugged. "Desperate Nord women rather pick up a sword and join the legion than spread their legs for the likes of Delvin, I suppose."

The Breton nodded in agreement. "Can't blame them, either..."

"So you're not going to help us? Shit, if I'd known you don't care about your Guild I'd have suggested Vex become guild ma..."

"You don't want to finish that sentence!"

Brynjolf suppressed a victorious smirk. He knew that remark hit home.

"So?"

The blond woman brought her hands up to her temples, trying to get rid of the headache that always seemed to strike when Brynjolf came to her with one of his wonderful new plans.

"Alright, I'll do it – IF he comes to me. I'll pretend to be wooed or whatever... Just, don't tell anybody, okay?"

"Well, I'd never..."

"Cut it, Bryn. Damn, I need a drink..."


	4. Chapter 3

_Reference to a letter found in Haelga's Bunkhouse in this chapter - just in case you don't understand what's going on in here ;)_

* * *

Daedric boots and a trout. Delvin was not sure what exactly had happened these last few hours, but he was sure he'd need therapy once he was out of here.

Daedric Boots.

Trout.

What the heck?

How did he get himself into this mess...

To call the conversation he had with Haelga awkward would be an understatement. He blabbered and she got annoyed, tried to get rid of him. Until he made a fatal mistake.

Oh sure, last evening he thought pretending to be Brynjolf and calling her 'lass' was probably the smartest move he'd made all day. The way she suddenly stopped speaking and looked at him, her eyes widening... yes, yesterday it really sounded good.

And how her voice changed from shrill and annoyed to dark and sultry, asking him to call her 'lass' again... which he did...

That's when things started getting weird, he decided. The way she jumped out of her chair and grabbed his collar, pulling him up – though even standing he just about reached her shoulder – and then dragged him behind her towards the Bunkhouse.

He thought his wildest dreams were coming true. But his wildest dreams did not include Daedric Boots and trout. No, definitely not.

Now he was lying beside a slightly snoring Haelga, bruised and sore and feeling violated, but even though he was the master of Sneak, he was afraid to move. What if she woke up? And what if she wanted more?

Oh Divines, he couldn't handly any more of THAT.

He needed to get out of here, and fast.

Damn Brynjolf and his stupid advice.


	5. Chapter 4

It was late morning when Thrynn found himself enjoying the sunshine in Riften. He was strolling through town, picking a pocket or two on his way and simply relishing in the fact that the stench of the sewers was far, far away for now.

It was then that he spotted the master of sneak doing... well... sneaking. In broad daylight. He looked like a haunted man. Someone who had been through hours of torture and sleep deprivation. Leaving the bunkhouse with a look of utter relief, he immediately headed for the stairs that led him in the general direction of the ratways.

However, remembering his bet and being slightly curious as to why the master of Sneak would leave a place like the bunkhouse in broad daylight, Thrynn called after him, stopping the Breton in his tracks.

"Oi, Mallory! Over here! You look like shit, man."

Said man jumped at the sound of his name. His gaze immediately turned back towards the bunkhouse as if he expected the building to jump up and swallow him. With a few quick though rather stiff movements, he was standing beside the taller Nord. "Not so loud! We wouldn't wanna wake anyone up, now would we?" The other thief just frowned in response. "What the hell are you talking about, you old senile coot?" Delvin just shook his head. "Doesn't matter. But if anyone comes looking for me, you ain't seen or heard of me, got it?" Thrynn just nodded. He had no idea what was going on, but neither did he really care at this particular moment.

The old man turned around, continuing on his way downstairs, mumbling to himself "Stupid Brynjolf and his stupid advice."

In the blink of an eye, the tall Nord was running after his superior and caught up with him just outside Elgrim's Elixirs. "What did you just say?"

Delvin sighed. "Listen, friend. If Brynjolf ever offers you his help, in any goddamn way, just say no. Doesn't matter what it is, just tell him to get lost. You wouldn't believe what kinds of trouble a single word can cause you when said to the wrong person."

The door behind the opened and a young woman left the building, looking deeply in thought. Thrynn took a step aside to let Ingrun Black-Briar pass him as he asked the one thing on his mind. "What word?"

Delvin's tired eyes mit his friend's curious gaze. He never seemed to notice the young woman that was just passing him by as he said the word that would doom him once again.

"Lass"


	6. Chapter 5

Thrynn had no idea what had happened. One moment he was talking to Mallory, the next moment his Breton friend was being dragged behind a squealing, blushing young woman, shouting obscenities and begging for mercy. However, the Nord knew better than to piss off a Black-Briar, so Mallory was on hiw own for now. He had no doubts whatsoever what the young woman was about to do to his friend, thus dooming him to lose his bet to Brynjolf. However, much to his amusement and relief, Delvin screamed death-threats and worse at him should he tell anybody what he had just witnessed.

He would not say a word.

Sipping on his mead down in the Flaggon, the former bandit smiled. Delvin was truly fucked, and Brynjolf would never know. Life was good.

Anyway, he did not feel too bad for leaving his friend at the mercy of a beautful young woman. How bad could she possibly be?


End file.
